


A Birthday To Call Your Own

by boopersnatchural



Series: Family Ties [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Parties, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Johnny Dubs Sometimes Tries, Young!Dean, Young!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2404022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boopersnatchural/pseuds/boopersnatchural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester tries to give Dean a birthday that other kids take for granted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birthday To Call Your Own

The party was perfect. The air was a little cold to be having a birthday party in a park, but mugs of hot cider steamed on the picnic table, a few set aside and labeled “Adults Only.” GI Joe birthday balloons stretched to the sky, straining to lift up the whole table. Piled on a smaller table that didn’t belong to the park was a mountain of presents wrapped in dark blues and reds and taking longing looks from the kids. There is nothing more satisfying to a kid than ripping into too-perfect wrapping paper to get at the prize inside. Maybe an all you can eat candy store, but it’s close. 

Children ran around screaming. Tag apparently had started, and some of the stronger kids climbed up to the top of the monkey bars, out of reach of the It Kid. A great debate had begun about whether they had broken the rules or were playing fair. The kids on top maintained their right to be there and laughed at demands for them to come down. The parents pulled their scarves closer and drained their cider and refilled their mugs and turned back to discussing the new police chief and the arrival of the FBI.

“Surprise, Dean. Happy birthday!” John smiled at his 10 year old son. Dean’s eyes doubled in size, and he looked across the playground. 

“This is for me?”

“Yeah. Just for you.”

“But. How? We just got here.”

“I wanted you to have a real birthday party. Go on.” Dean didn’t look completely convinced. His face was Mary’s the night John had surprised her with their house. Sam didn’t have any qualms and darted right for the swings. Dean looked once more at John. “Go have fun, Dean.” He was off, becoming one of the mass of kids trying not to get tagged, breath punching out in white steam. No one stopped long enough to see the holes in the boys’ coats or the frayed edges of their scarves. 

One of the women yelled that it was time for Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Dean got so turned around that he nearly stuck the pin the woman’s butt. Sam, though, got it right on the money first time. Dean kidded his brother that he must have been peeking.

“Nuh uh, Dean! I just did it. I just knew where to go! I don’t cheat!”

“Okay, Sam. I believe you. You don’t cheat.” Dean grabbed his brother’s hand. “C’mon!” They started to run. “We’ve got a piñata!”

A dad had hung the blue and yellow and green donkey from the bough of a tree close to the cider. Dean was better at this. Sixth kid to go, and busted the thing right apart, even with the blindfold and no peeking. At least that’s what he told Sam. He barely got any candy. Just stood there beaming at John who was clapping and whooping for his son. This, these moments, they needed more of these.

“Alright, kids! It’s presents time!” The mom-in-charge announced once enough faces were covered in chocolate. The kids all yelled and ran over. Dean ran hardest, ran fastest, and grabbed the present on the top of the pile as soon as he got there. 

“What are you doing, young man?”

“Uh. Presents time?”

The mom huffed out. “You put that back right now. Those are not your presents.”

“But… it’s my birthday.” John was too slow to see what was happening. Too slow to get over there before his son realized. 

“Well, happy birthday, but these are not for you. Who are you anyway?”

Dean put the present back. “No one.”

“I’m really sorry, ma’am. Come on, Dean. Grab your brother. Let’s go.” Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT. John couldn’t even do birthdays right.

“Wait. Wait. You’re the FBI agent? It’s okay. You can stay. We’d love to talk to you about what’s been going on. I’m sure we can find something for your son’s birthday. Must be hard, traveling so close to his big day.” Her singsong voice grated over every last nerve, and John was ready, willing, and able to blame her for the look on Dean’s face.

“No. Enjoy your party.” His words poisoned with vitriol. She stepped back slightly at the shock of them. “Ma’am.”

The three walk back to the Impala. Every step, Dean shoves down the tears he is not crying, balling up his fists and painting over his shame with anger. He’s old enough now to know that boys don’t cry, boys explode.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! WHY DID YOU TELL ME IT WAS MY PARTY?!” Sam grabs John’s hand hides his face against his jeans. Dean takes a swing at John, as far away from Sammy as possible. “Why?!” John catches Dean’s fists and pulls him close.

“Dean, I’m -. I wanted you to have a real birthday party, and we can’t afford it but you deserve one anyway.”

“So you had me steal someone else’s?”

“No. Share. I wanted you to have one day-“ 

Dean turns away from John and gets in the car. John takes Sam and buckles him in next to his brother. He opens up the trunk and takes out a box wrapped in newspaper. He looks back at the slowly diminishing mountain of gifts back at the party and climbs into the drivers seat. In the rearview mirror, Dean is scowling out the window, determined not to look at anyone. He sighs. Just another day of being World’s #1 Dad. 

John passes the package back to his oldest boy. “Happy birthday, Dean.” Dean doesn’t take it, so he sets it down in the middle seat and starts the car. 

As the Impala exits the park, Dean’s curiosity wins, and he picks up the package. He looks at it. Deciding. Sam watches him. “Thanks.” And he tears into the makeshift wrapping paper. 

Inside is a GI Joe set. Not even a used box. Brand new. Still in the plastic. Still with the Walmart sticker. Dean looks into the rearview mirror at his dad. He can’t believe it.

“Do you like it?”

“I- Yeah. Thank you.”

“Happy birthday.” Sam reaches over to grab at the box. “Sam. Those are Dean’s, okay? Just Dean’s.”

“That’s okay. We can share. You can play with me, Sammy.” 

John guns the engine the way Dean likes, and his boys squeal. He watches them play and lose half of the little plastic men in the footwells. Radio turned off this one time, John listens to the music of fake wars and fake dying and real laughter back to their motel.


End file.
